


Five Times the Winter System Could Not Remember Who They Are (and One Time They Were Reminded).

by InkgooSupernova



Series: The Winter System [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1, 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesiac Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Gets a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes has DID - Dissociative Identity Disorder, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dissociation, Dissociative Amnesia, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Evil Alexander Pierce, HYDRA Trash Party, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Imprisonment, Inspired by APSHDS, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Sexual Age Play, One Shot, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Temporary Amnesia, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23726338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkgooSupernova/pseuds/InkgooSupernova
Summary: "There's no need to be sorry," Steve held out his hand, and Bucky gripped it like a protective knife in an unforgiving tundra. "I'm just glad you're safe. Is everyone else okay?"Everyone else. Everyone else?Oh, right,everyone else.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: The Winter System [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693231
Comments: 7
Kudos: 135





	Five Times the Winter System Could Not Remember Who They Are (and One Time They Were Reminded).

**Author's Note:**

> This story is loosely based on real life, personal experiences with dissociation and dissociative amnesia.
> 
> Heed the tags.

The holding cell was cold and damp.

The Soldier sat in the frigid area that barely fit his body, trying to keep himself warm on the damp, uncomfortable cot. Hydra had gifted him this comfort, he was going to _appreciate it_.

He had been awake for too long, he could feel it. He could feel a stirring in his guts that reminded him of times that the Director- his _Master_ \- glared at him with disapproving eyes. They were always whenever he _disobeyed_.

He never understood why he disobeyed. He never _wanted_ to disobey. He wanted nothing more than to serve Hydra and make the world a better place.

But some days, like today, there was this _ache_. Deep in his bones. He didn't understand it. He felt like his brain was put into someone else's body. But this was _his_ body. His stronger arm was still the same, his scars were still the same, _everything_ was still the same. But he still felt _different_.

He felt like these things that he knew were his were all _wrong_.

But he couldn't understand _why_. It didn't make any _sense_. He was the _Winter Soldier_. No more. No less.

He felt a flash of warmth, a feeling he had felt somewhere else before. He remembered being on a building rooftop. The air was clean, and there was someone near him. He couldn't get the fuzzy image in his brain to focus.

It was all so very confusing.

————

He couldn't remember.

There were people all around him, and he felt so very, very _cold_.

He couldn't remember his name, or where he was, or _who_ he was. The people around him were calling him 'Soldier' and 'Asset', but those didn't feel _right_. He could feel a name on the tip of his tongue.

Steve.

Was that his name? No, no that couldn't be it. Could it? He tried so hard to make _anything_ appear in the empty black space of his head. He finally got something to appear.

Brooklyn. Barns.

It was something with a 'B', he could feel it on his lips. Was his name Brooklyn? No, no that's more of a girl name. Or was he a girl? He had long hair, and he couldn't exactly look down at himself. But he _felt_ like a boy. What did barns have to do with this? Was he raised on a farm? His brain just kept drawing blanks.

He was dragged from his thoughts as one of the men covered his face with a strange muzzle, and handed him a gun.

It was all so very confusing.

————

Fight. Flee. Fight. _Flee_. _**Fight**_.

His name was James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th. He was a prisoner of war.

He was _trapped_.

His body was _wrong_. Everything ached and his arm- oh god, his _arm_ \- was replaced with a horrible, metallic monstrosity. A weapon grafted to his skin.

The worst of it, was where he found himself.

He was in some kind of kid's room. The walls were soft blue, and the floor was covered by a soft, white carpet.

 _He had no idea where he was_.

He couldn't remember how he got here, or what day it was, or _why_ he was in brightly colored pajamas with colorful spots on them, clutching a stuffed rabbit for dear life.

Then the door opened, and his heart froze.

 _Steve_.

The blond man walked into the room, he was wearing an expensive looking suit and tie. He looked so _old_. Steve never wore suits that fancy. Steve was younger than him by a year. This was wrong.

This was _wrong_.

"Where am I." He was so deeply confused, trying to figure out what the fuck was happening and where the fuck was he.

"Is that any way to talk to me, little boy?" The man- who was definitely _not Steve_ \- looked angry, and it made his guts squirm for some reason.

"I am _not_ a little boy. Where am I? _What have you done with Steve_?" He growled, ready to defend himself and escape from wherever the _fuck_ this was.

The man who was not Steve- that a child-sounding voice in the back of his head insisted on calling _Daddy_ , what the _fuck_ \- turned white as a sheet, calmly grabbing a device from his pocket and spoke into it. What the _fuck_ was that? A futuristic-Nazi-walkie talkie?!

He was left alone in the child's room, banging on the now locked door, shouting at that not-Steve bastard for some kind of an explanation. There was no method of escape, and while one side of his mind rationally screamed at him to _**RUN ESCAPE RUN RUN FIGHT RUN RUN GET OUT RUN**_ , the other side was _begging_ him to stop, to be _good_. What the fuck did they do to him?! Why couldn't he remember anything?! _Where was Steve_?!

When men in black suits and helmets came, he did not hesitate to start crushing skulls in with the weapon of an arm attached to him. He tried desperately to fight back, to get out, to _get away_. They jabbed into his sides with electric prods and his blood _froze_. He wailed in pain, and suddenly his actions were no longer his own. He was cowering, terrified, _begging for forgiveness_. _What did they **do to him**_?!

The next thing he could remember, he was being dragged towards a very large, terrifying chair, hooked up to an even larger machine. Everything in his brain was screaming to _get away from that thing_. He managed to brutalize at least five more of the men, creating a room of human viscera he could have never imagined in his _worst nightmares_ , before they finally forced his body into the chair. He was kicking and screaming and shouting his name up until the machine clamped around his head, and his world was filled with an all-consuming, _searing_ pain.

He couldn't remember anymore.

His name was- his name- was- his-

It was gone.

It was all so very _confusing_.

————

He was cold.

He was so very, very _cold_.

He was in a dark van with the rest of the Soldier's team. Right, the Soldier. The Soldier was supposed to be the one awake, not _him_. He was Daddy's special secret.

This team was different. Commander wasn't there, or Agent Rollins, or anyone else he knew. They were all speaking funny words that he couldn't understand. His head hurt and he was _crying_. He was being a _bad boy_.

He just wanted his Daddy.

He thought of the warmth, of him and his Daddy laying together in a tent, the crickets chirping outside. There were other men around him too, they all looked like the soldiers in old movies.

Wait, that _couldn't_ be right. Daddy never took him camping before. Did he?

All he could really remember right now was _why_ he was crying.

He was with these other men, the Soldier had just gotten done being a good boy for them, shooting a bad person for them. But then he saw someone with a skinned rabbit in a pot, and there was blood and flesh and and _and_ -

He felt the van stop, and he carefully followed the men out of the van and into a kindof nice looking house.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when one of the men's voices boomed through the house, causing a whole new wave of fretful tears.

"American!" His voice rang through the house as he opened the door. "What have you done?!"

He could see the Commander now, and he _knew_ he was in trouble.

"I haven't done _shit_. Except breathe. What, do Americans do _that_ wrong too?" Commander's voice huffed.

He couldn't remember much after that, but he could remember the man who was yelling earlier gave him a cookie and started being very nice to him after he stopped crying. No one hit him for being bad.

It was all so _very confusing_.

————

He couldn't speak.

His head felt so very funny, and he felt so frail and tired and scared and he _couldn't speak_.

He was sitting on a cold, hard floor. What a terrible place for a soft, little creature. There were people talking all around him, and they were loud and naked and he was naked and cold and cold and naked and _cold_.

One of the people was trying to say something to him and put something long and funny looking in front of his nose, but he just couldn't understand what was happening. Then the person slapped him on his face, and it _hurt_ and he was _scared_.

He yelped in pain, unable to stop the sudden tears or keening whine. That earned another slap to his face and he couldn't _help it_. He just cried harder, wanting to be saved, be taken away from these people who were hurting him.

He was pulled up and dragged out of the room by his soft little ears and it **hurt**. He cried out in pain, wanting someone, _anyone_ , to come and save him.

They dragged him all the way to a bigger room with a scary chair that made every piece of stuffing inside him feel like it was knotted up. He needed to stay away from it but they were pulling on his ears harder and harder and he _couldn't get away_.

They shoved him into the chair like the ragdoll he was, and the loud noises grew unbearably louder and _louder_ , until he couldn't even hear his own, terrified screams.

Then the pain started, and it was the worst thing he had ever felt in his _entire life_. Like the stitchings on his head were being ripped open and the stuffing ripped out, leaving him empty and broken open.

It was all _so very confusing_.

————

The holding cell was warm and dry.

The Soldier could have _sworn_ the holding cell was always cold and damp, and barely fit his body. Why was this one so warm and dry and open? Did they move him?

He was suddenly torn from his thoughts at the sound of a knock. Why did this cell have drywall? The holding cell always had bricks and a barred door. Was he supposed to be a child for Daddy? Was this a test? What was happening?

He couldn't remember.

"Bucky? You okay? Jarvis said you might be having trouble?" The door opened and Master was there, but he looked so _young_. Wait.

Who the hell was Bucky?

His Master stared at him for a moment. Was he supposed to do something? Was he supposed to show how much he loved him with his mouth? He _really_ couldn't remember what was happening.

A disembodied, robotic voice startled him. He couldn't remember moving, but now he was between the large bed and the wall. _Hiding_.

"Master Rogers, Master Barnes appears to be having a dissociative episode. He may have a lapse in memory." The voice rang out.

"What's the best option, Jarvis?" Master was talking to the disembodied voice, and he couldn't help the fear that coursed through his body. He was in _trouble_. He was going to be _punished_.

 _The chair_.

He couldn't help the sudden scream that tore through his throat.

"Soldier! Soldier it's okay!" Master was suddenly a lot closer, just on the other side of the bed. "Here, eyes up here." He spoke, and the Soldier tried to obey, but as soon as their eyes met, a horrible feeling shot through his spine. He held his eyes at his Master's chest.

"Hey, pal," Master spoke softly, it felt so _warm_ and _safe_. "Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, you are in Avengers Tower in Manhattan, New York. You are safe."

There was a flash of so many memories, all so very fuzzy and unfocused, like watching fireworks through frosted glass.

Bucky. Bucky. Bucky.

"...I'm sorry, Steve." Bucky remembered. This was not Master. Mast- Pierce- Alexander Pierce was dead. This was Steve. Steve was safe. Steve was familiar. Steve was _home_.

"There's no need to be sorry," Steve held out his hand, and Bucky gripped it like a protective knife in an unforgiving tundra. "I'm just glad you're safe. Is everyone else okay?"

Everyone else. Everyone else?

Oh, right, _everyone else_.

"Yeah, yeah just," Bucky sighed, trying to collect their now scattered thoughts. "Just kinda, y'know..." He was far too dissociated for this, he couldn't focus on _anything_. Everything felt so far away, like Steve was trying to talk to him underwater. "...I'm sorry, I can't remember..." He felt so very tired and _defeated_.

"It's okay, just relax, I'm here, I'm here." Steve held his arms open, and Bucky found himself snuggled close to his chest. This he understood. It was warm. It was _safe_.

 _It was so very confusing_.

**Author's Note:**

> **References:**
> 
> The scene where Jamesy is with the Russian team is directly based on chapter 23 of Lauralot's 'Little Interludes', found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3705493/chapters/8409625. This story can be seen as either part of the APSHDS universe or not.
> 
> In the scene with Winnie, the agents he was with were attempting to use the Soldier 'recreationally', but due to the dissociation and switching, Winnie did not understand what was happening or what he was there for. The 'long, funny looking thing' mentioned is the penis of one of the agents.
> 
> **Brief Explainations:**
> 
> In this story, Bucky and his system experience dissociation and dissociative amnesia during their time in Hydra. They express confusion and fear at being unable to remember key details, as well as suddenly remembering things that Hydra attempts to keep hidden.
> 
> As the dissociation continues outside of Hydra, so does the amnesia, as they experience dissociative episodes where they cannot remember who or where they are. Grounding techniques, such as being reminded key details, help to at least bring a sense of security while scared and confused during a dissociative episode.
> 
> These are all based on **personal experiences** and are not meant to explain or educate all DID systems, symptoms, or how they work. These are simply examples from our own experiences as a traumagenic DID system. No two people or their experiences are exactly alike, so these will not apply to every single case of DID.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated, and thank you for reading!


End file.
